


Second Hand

by thecarlysutra



Category: Thunderheart (1992)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 10:58:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/pseuds/thecarlysutra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUMMARY: From derangedfangirl’s prompt: <i>Walter/Ray finds a photo of the other wearing leather pants</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [derangedfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/derangedfangirl/gifts).



  
Ray wanted to make a good impression, and there was a lot stacked against him, so it took him a long time to relax when they went to visit Walter’s folks. For this reason, it was a long while before he noticed the photograph of Walter in his college days collecting dust on the mantle.

Ray squinted. “Are those—are you wearing leather pants?”

Walter hitched up his regular old denim britches and gave Ray a look. “You got eyes, don’t you, Raymond?”

Ray took the picture down. The photo, grainy and faded, was of Walter and a few of his cousins hanging around outside a VW bus. One of the cousins was in dance regalia, so Ray figured it was a powwow. Walter was in the middle of the picture, leaning against the VW, hair long and free, aviators glinting in the sun, thin legs clad in what were most definitely a pair of dark brown leather pants.

“I—” Ray started, but before he could come to a thought, Walter snatched the picture from his hands and set it back on the mantle.

“Long time ago,” Walter said.

***

“Do you still have them?” Ray asked on the car ride home.

Walter quit singing to Conway Twitty on the radio. “Have what?”

Ray bit gently at his bottom lip. “The leather pants.”

“Hmm,” Walter said, and turned the speakers up.

***

“Can I see them?” Ray asked, while he was feeding the dog and Walter was frying up some supper.

“Just had your eyes checked, didn’t you?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Those old leathers prob’ly don’t even fit no more, Ray,” Walter said. 

Ray pouted through dinner.

***

A few nights later, Ray came out into the bedroom after his evening bathroom ritual, and his jaw dropped. Walter was waiting for him, standing before the bed in the old leather pants and nothing else. He’d let down his hair and shaken it out, and it hung wild around him. 

Ray grinned.

“Thank you,” he said, and closed the distance between them.

Walter arched a brow. “What for?”

Ray traced over the soft line of Walter’s belly with his forefinger, tugged gently at a belt loop. 

“You look like a rock star,” Ray said, smiling so fierce he was almost laughing. “Can you—” He blushed. “Can you wear them while we . . . ?”

Walter’s brow rose. “Honey, if you can figure out a way we can have sex without me taking off my pants—”

“I could use my mouth on you!” Ray said with an eagerness that rarely accompanied the sentiment. He tugged at Walter’s zipper and met his eyes. “Can I? Please?”

And something rare happened—Walter was struck speechless.

“Well,” he managed finally, “far be it from me to stand between you and your dreams.”

Ray knelt before him, still grinning like a fool, and slowly unbuttoned the leather pants. He pressed a kiss to Walter’s fly, the old leather gamy and wild. Walter threaded his fingers through Ray’s soft, short hair, and Walter’s eyes rolled back. The old leather pants from the photo hadn’t fit anymore, of course. But this was the best twenty bucks he’d ever spent at the flea market.  



End file.
